That's my squad. Third place in the 2025 NBA Softball Tournament. We were short a couple of players on Saturday, then had an injury on Sunday, so we probably finished where we going to finish. We put out the DA's on Sunday morning, 10 - 5. Joe claims it was one of the best games he has seen me pitch. I don't know about that but it's special for me, at 59, to be in a position for him to see me compete and succeed against players much younger and, at this stage, more athletic than me. In short, the old man can still spin it.
Our kryptonite in the 2025 tournament was Hardin Law, helmed by my good friend, Matt Hardin. Our fate was sealed on Saturday, when we lost to them by one run, after going up early, 12 - 5. We only scored two runs thereafter and lost, 14 - 15. I've always maintained that in this league, if we can't score 15 runs a game, we're likely going to lose.
Yesterday, after defeating the DA's on the small field at Cleveland Street Park, we played Hardin Law, again, on the big field. Strangely, it was our first game on the big field all season. We don't play very well on the field. Never have. I'm going to need to schedule us there, more, during the regular season next year. Hardin Law rallied late to beat us again, as our squad simply ran out of gas in the brutally hot weather. The temperature was in the high 90's and it was humid. I was cooked, as the boys say, and I'm not sure I could have played Manier Herod in the finals, even if we had managed to beat Hardin Law.
Leroy Joy, one of our longtime umpires, was likewise cooked, so I stayed after our loss and called the game with him. He had home plate and I was in the field. Actually, I enjoy umpiring, although I enjoy it more when my body is not cramping up after playing a softball double header in unrelenting July heat in Nashville. Manier won by spring six runs in the top of the 7th inning against Hardin Law, then holding the lead in the bottom of the 7th inning to win by two runs.
When Hardin Law rallied to take the lead in the bottom of the 6th inning, my heart sank as I envisioned a second game. Fortunately, that did not come to pass, as Manier Herod complete a relatively easy trek through the winner's bracket to the championship. Good for my friend, Jeff Price, and his team.
Manier, Herod, Hollabaugh and Smith, of course, was where I worked for the first five years of my career I won multiple NBA tournament titles playing for MHHS, so it makes me happy and a bit nostalgic to see them do well. For years, Manier, Herod was a team of young players knocking not the door before they won their first title a few years ago. Almost overnight, or so it seems, they got older, and now they're a veteran team hanging on for few more seasons.
Terry Hill, my first boss at MHHS, was at Cleveland Street Park to watch Manier Herod's first game, which was really cool. I introduced my boys to him and got a couple of photos with him, which absolutely made my day.
That begs the question, though. If Manier, Herod is an old team, now, what does that make my team? Certainly, the oldest in the league. Probably, the oldest in league history, with me pushing 60, and John Rolfe and Worrick Robinson over 60.
I took over as Commissioner of the NBA Softball League last May, after a 25-year absence since I last held the position. My friend, Travis, who ran the league for almost a decade, needed a break, and I was happy to take it over, although I wish I had gotten an earlier start.
It was a weird regular season for me, as I learned the ropes on the fly. Unfortunately and strangely, we had rain almost every Sunday and Monday, as a result of which we had rainout after rainout. The NBA only has the fields at Cleveland Street Park reserved for Mondays and Tuesdays, so we had a limited ability to make up games in a truncated season. Some teams, like ours, only played two of the six scheduled games. I've got big plans for next season but writing about those can wait for another day.
Saturday, we had a scare, one unlike anything I have experienced in 35 + years in the league. As I was pitching in our afternoon game against Hardin Law, I threw a sidewinder, high and inside, to a right handed batter. It was a ball but our umpire, Gary, didn't react at all to the pitch. Staring intently in at him, I asked Gary where the pitch missed. When he didn't respond, I thought something might be wrong. I saw his knees quiver just the slightest bit, so I dropped by glove and sprinted to home plate from the mound.
Sure enough, Gary was out on his feet due to heat exhaustion. No one could tell because he was wearing dark sunglasses. As he started to collapse, several of my teammates and players from Hardin Law, too, helped me hold him up and lean him against the backstop. Some pulled a cooler out for him to sit on and Deb Rubenstein called 911. Sitting down, Gary started to get sick, a sure sign of heat exhaustion. When the EMT's checked him out, his blood pressure had soared, although he was conscious and talking coherently. Cleary, he was in no position to call any games the rest of the weekend. Worrick drove Gary home. Leroy finished up our game, then David Drobny (Manier Herod), David's son (Jonathan), and I called the last game of Saturday afternoon, a Not Guilty win by one run over Lewis, Thomasson.
After we lost to Hardin Law yesterday, I gave out the inaugural Gary "Rube" Rubenstein Spirt of the Game trophy to the only person who could have won it this year, Pete Ezell (Baker Donelson). Pete is the oldest player in the league, at 73 or 74, and he was there with Rube's wife, Deb, watching the games. I called Pete and Deb out onto the field and gave Pete Ezell the trophy, as the players from the three remaining teams applauded. It was a moment I will not soon forget.
After the last game was over, I was exhausted. As I told Leroy, I wasn't sure I could have called another game, had Hardin Law won. He felt the same way. After picking up some trash, I was the last person to leave Cleveland Street Park. The Commission, somehow, again, after all of these years.
The 2025 NBA Softball Tournament had a little bit of everything, as did the season. It was fun to have Joe keeping the scorebook for us and JP playing shortstop behind his old man.
As I sat at the bar at Burger Up about 5:30 p.m., sipping a Friday night, I felt strangely empty. I was relived, for sure, and exhausted, but a little bit sad, too. I always feels that way immediately after the NBA softball season ends.
I thought about seasons past and lives lost. Steve Cox and Don Smith, who were loyal supporters of our team until the very end. I also thought about Jeff Orr, who died way too young this spring. We played together in my earliest years at Manier, Herod. He was swift as a deer in the outfield in the year or two played together. I thought about Rube, too, and how much I miss him.
In the end, I'm glad the season is over, I think. But I can't wait until next year.
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